They call me Moneybags.
It's apparently stocks and RRSPs season. I never really knew such a season existed, and I have the feeling that it was just invented this year and everyone is playing along. You know, like those who fronted like they knew Bruce Willis was a ghost even though they thought he was just plain old alive Bruce Willis like the rest of us did.
I wonder what it was like when Christmas first began its life as a yearly phenomenon. Were there groups of bandwagoners hanging by the wayside like, "Christmas? Shiiit. I been celebratin Christmas since dude was BORN, yo. Before that. Holla!"
Of course it's possible that I'm just totally clueless. You know, what with me being totally clueless and all. I don't even know what an RRSP is, much less how to get one, why I should get one, and why this is the best time of the year to get one. I don't even know if they come in ones, or if I should get them in bundles of ten. "Gimmie a dime of that good RRSP shit, mang."
We got our stock plans in today, and Julie was waving it in my face like I just got my acceptance letter to Harvard. Catherine's panties got all wet after opening hers, something like when my girlfriend sees a new episode of Alias, or when my dog finds leftover bits of food in her feces. Like every other year before, I shoved the giant envelope in my bag, unopened, destined to be thrown in a sock drawer at home and not thought about again until this time next year.
Cat, however, a dolphin with kidney stones, kept bouncing up and down, squealing. I eventually bit and asked her what's up, and she went on and on about something or other. I stared at her for awhile, and then interrupted, "like, you live in a totally different world than I do, don't you? Just two different realities. Really. I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about." Like everyone else when talking about money, she laughed at my ignorance and gave me the look that most people give to babies when they try to sit upright and fall on their face.
I asked for her to explain it all to me, and her eyes lit up, like mine do when someone tells me Jessica Alba is in a new comic adaptation and the pics can be found here: (insert website url). She broke it all down, drawing graphs and timelines on a napkin, using a little circle with an arrow through it that apparently reprsented me. I didn't have the heart to tell her I still had no idea what the fuck she was talking about. Either that, or I didn't want to look stupid. I'll let you decide.
Instead, I passed the time by every once in awhile raising my eyebrows and nodding my head, much like I used to in Mr. Sebetti's physics class. I noticed that if I asked questions here and there like, "so what does that mean?" or "you mean that's money I have just sitting there?" and "wow! free money??", that with every high-pitched question mark her eyes would light up and she'd get a little more excited. It's the closest experience I've had in real life to a person's eyes turning to dollar signs. If you knew what Cat looks like, you'd know that this only made her look like a villain on Chip 'n' Dale: Rescue Rangers. (Catherine plush toys, now available at Walmart.)
She then dismissed me with a wave and a "you're all anti-corporate anyways, aren't you?" I laughed, though I'm still not sure why.
Coming home, I found an article in today's paper, the ID section, with the sub-header: "Sick of getting financial advice from people you wish would stick a sock it? ID offers help." After picturing sticking socks in Catherine's mouth, I found this to be a bit harsh. But still, it was good to see that I wasn't the only one out of the financial planning loop.
Sadly, the article was actually a How-To Guide, a wolf in sheep's clothing, full of jargon and codewords the author assumed I'd be able to decipher. It now sits in my sock drawer with my unopened stock plan envelope, and I promise to read them both in depth. One day.
I turned on the television, and a news anchor promised me that later tonight she would tell me all the ins-and-outs of RRSPs. But by this point I was more than suspicious of anyone who promised me such easy knowledge.
Instead, I changed to Spongebob Squarepants, and tittered myself to sleep, where I'm pretty sure I didn't accumlate any wealth, but then again, who knows. If money can be made out of nowhere, I figure sleeping during Spongebob is as good a place as any to start.
peace.
It's apparently stocks and RRSPs season. I never really knew such a season existed, and I have the feeling that it was just invented this year and everyone is playing along. You know, like those who fronted like they knew Bruce Willis was a ghost even though they thought he was just plain old alive Bruce Willis like the rest of us did.
I wonder what it was like when Christmas first began its life as a yearly phenomenon. Were there groups of bandwagoners hanging by the wayside like, "Christmas? Shiiit. I been celebratin Christmas since dude was BORN, yo. Before that. Holla!"
Of course it's possible that I'm just totally clueless. You know, what with me being totally clueless and all. I don't even know what an RRSP is, much less how to get one, why I should get one, and why this is the best time of the year to get one. I don't even know if they come in ones, or if I should get them in bundles of ten. "Gimmie a dime of that good RRSP shit, mang."
We got our stock plans in today, and Julie was waving it in my face like I just got my acceptance letter to Harvard. Catherine's panties got all wet after opening hers, something like when my girlfriend sees a new episode of Alias, or when my dog finds leftover bits of food in her feces. Like every other year before, I shoved the giant envelope in my bag, unopened, destined to be thrown in a sock drawer at home and not thought about again until this time next year.
Cat, however, a dolphin with kidney stones, kept bouncing up and down, squealing. I eventually bit and asked her what's up, and she went on and on about something or other. I stared at her for awhile, and then interrupted, "like, you live in a totally different world than I do, don't you? Just two different realities. Really. I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about." Like everyone else when talking about money, she laughed at my ignorance and gave me the look that most people give to babies when they try to sit upright and fall on their face.
I asked for her to explain it all to me, and her eyes lit up, like mine do when someone tells me Jessica Alba is in a new comic adaptation and the pics can be found here: (insert website url). She broke it all down, drawing graphs and timelines on a napkin, using a little circle with an arrow through it that apparently reprsented me. I didn't have the heart to tell her I still had no idea what the fuck she was talking about. Either that, or I didn't want to look stupid. I'll let you decide.
Instead, I passed the time by every once in awhile raising my eyebrows and nodding my head, much like I used to in Mr. Sebetti's physics class. I noticed that if I asked questions here and there like, "so what does that mean?" or "you mean that's money I have just sitting there?" and "wow! free money??", that with every high-pitched question mark her eyes would light up and she'd get a little more excited. It's the closest experience I've had in real life to a person's eyes turning to dollar signs. If you knew what Cat looks like, you'd know that this only made her look like a villain on Chip 'n' Dale: Rescue Rangers. (Catherine plush toys, now available at Walmart.)
She then dismissed me with a wave and a "you're all anti-corporate anyways, aren't you?" I laughed, though I'm still not sure why.
Coming home, I found an article in today's paper, the ID section, with the sub-header: "Sick of getting financial advice from people you wish would stick a sock it? ID offers help." After picturing sticking socks in Catherine's mouth, I found this to be a bit harsh. But still, it was good to see that I wasn't the only one out of the financial planning loop.
Sadly, the article was actually a How-To Guide, a wolf in sheep's clothing, full of jargon and codewords the author assumed I'd be able to decipher. It now sits in my sock drawer with my unopened stock plan envelope, and I promise to read them both in depth. One day.
I turned on the television, and a news anchor promised me that later tonight she would tell me all the ins-and-outs of RRSPs. But by this point I was more than suspicious of anyone who promised me such easy knowledge.
Instead, I changed to Spongebob Squarepants, and tittered myself to sleep, where I'm pretty sure I didn't accumlate any wealth, but then again, who knows. If money can be made out of nowhere, I figure sleeping during Spongebob is as good a place as any to start.
peace.